


The Baker Has His Secrets

by Flightless_Forests



Series: The Baker Has His Secrets.. [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Baking, Blacksmithing, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Rights, Hermes do b bakin doe, I rlly do b sayin, I'm writing this for fun, Kinda, Kinda gay ngl, Multi, Pastries, There isn't really a time/era, a h e l l f u c k of pastries, but like..., will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Forests/pseuds/Flightless_Forests
Summary: Olympus is a town ripe with livelihoods, plentiful with adults and children alike. It stands at the base of the Mountain, as the townsfolk have nicknamed the castle of Zeus, the ruling king.But, like most places, many secrets lay dormant, festering in heavy heads and lead hearts.The baker has his secrets, but he is not alone.
Relationships: Dionysus & Hermes (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hephaestus/Hermes (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: The Baker Has His Secrets.. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653559
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. So It Begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuildin and the start of Hermes and Dionysus!

He kneads the bread as best he can, fingers covered in flour as he folds the dough over itself a multitude of times. It’s a simple bread, but he makes them alone and fresh each day.

There’s a mess on the counter, a frankenstein's monster of dough scraps and seasonings set out for when his young apprentice arrives.

Hermes wipes his forehead as the door to his shop creaks open, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He smiles a small smile as he’s almost knocked over by a speeding child.

“Hermes!” The young Dionysus screeches, burying his face in the baker’s apron, hugging his legs.

The man in question laughs, picking the child up. Dionysus giggles.

Hermes has been his day guardian since he was born, handing him off to various women at certain intervals. Never back to his father, though; Hermes is the closest thing he has to one.

His first secret? Dionysus is the king’s son, born to a woman the queen made too curious. The king had to kill her to save her, keeping the child. Hermes is the only townsperson that he told. But Hera’s a loose pot, who knows who she told.

Hermes sets him down on a stool, going to fetch him an apron. Dionysus babbles about his day, taking a handful of flour and beginning to mess with his pile. He makes shapes instead of blobs, raising his arms only so Hermes can tie the apron around him.

“Oh, really?” Hermes asks, easing back into his routine, continuing to flatten and pull his piece of dough. 

Dionysus grins wide, nodding. “Mhm!” He continues his rambling as Hermes separates his batch into equal sized portions.

He places the portions onto his wooden peel. Dionysus watches, having finally gone silent. He does the same with his weirdly shaped bits, Hermes having to space them out better.

He slips the peel into the fiery oven, letting it rest there as he turns back to Dionysus.

“I’ve a few errands to run-”

“Can I help?” He interrupts, jumping off the stool.

Hermes laughs, taking off his apron. “I was going to ask you, you know.” He ruffles his hair. 

Dionysus swats at his hand, before attempting to do the same. He only achieves getting flour in his hair.

Hermes sighs, dusting his hands off on the now-hanging apron. He unties Dionysus’ for him, hanging it up with his own.

“When these are finished, we’ll go out into the market, alright?” 

Dionysus huffs, crossing his arms. “ _Fine…_ ”

“Ah, don’t give me that, kid, you’ll live.” Hermes laughs. He ruffles his hair once more.

It puts Dionysus into a better mood, laughing as he clings onto Hermes’ arm. 

“Do the thing! Please!” He looks up at Hermes with pleading in his eyes.

Hermes tenses, even as Dionysus begs some more.

His second secret comes in pairs. Vibrant white, delicate and clean.

Two wings sprout out of his temples, the wingspan matching that of a common sparrow. They rest against his head, able to tuck behind his ears. 

He hides them with his hat, a grand old thing of aged leather. They act as accessories, as if he could afford them with his meager pay. He’s hardly royalty, and unpaid for his work to the King.

The second and third set stem from his ankles, harder to hide, especially in the weather. They ache in his buskins, stretched through holes Hermes had to carve himself. They are smaller than the two on his temples, but frailer. Harder to spot yet easier to hurt. 

He finally relents, taking off his hat to let his wings stretch proud. 

Dionysus’ eyes light up, and he lets out a happy squeak. He laughs as Hermes picks him up, clinging to him like a toddler would their mother. 

Hermes sighs, letting himself be lifted from the ground with a breeze, his wings beating against his head. 

Dionysus laughs and shrieks as they ascend, always happy when Hermes decides to fly with him in tow. 

They float around until the bread is finished, Hermes setting the child back down on his stool.

“How’d’ya even _know_ when that’s done?” Dionysus asks, playing with a pile of flour on the counter.

Hermes waves him aside, placing down his peel onto the stone countertop. 

He smiles as he unloads the cooked bread, placing them upon a few cobblestones to cool. “I’ve been at this a long time, you know.”

Dionysus huffs. “You tell me everytime!”

“I’ve never a new answer!” Hermes laughs, putting his hands up momentarily, before continuing to stock. He slips Dio his misshapen, doughy pieces, who pokes one, before popping it into his mouth. 

“Ah-” He drops it onto the counter- “Hot!”

Hermes sighs, picking it up and tossing it into the oven’s fire. “Of course it was, it was fresh off the peel!” 

Dionysus sticks his tongue out at him, grabbing his other one. He makes a show of blowing on it to cool it down, before taking a bite. 

“Mrkert teem?”

Hermes pauses, turning around. “ _What?_ ”

Dionysus puts up a finger, swallowing his chunk. “Market time?”

Hermes laughs. “Fetch my bag, would you?”

Dionysus nods, cramming the bread into his mouth as he hops off the stool. He coughs as he races into the back room.

Hermes shakes his head, chuckling to himself. He picks the best pieces of bread, grabbing his small sack of coins from a compartment near the wood storage.

He waits as Dionysus comes stumbling out of the backroom, retying his buskins and donning his hat. He wraps up in his shawl, hiding him further from sight. 

Dionysus tosses the sling at him, and he ties it around himself before slipping the bread into it. 

“Are we leaving yet?” He asks, hyper as ever. 

“Put on your coverup, it's as cold as winter’s balls.”

Dionysus snorts, smacking him. “Hermes!”

“Hey-! You’re old enough to hear words like that!”

He gets a grumpy little giggle in response. 

“Still. Relace your shoes, too, while you’re at it!”

Dionysus grumbles, ducking out of sight.

Still, though, when Dionysus stands, he’s done all Hermes has asked.

“Market?” He asks, hopefulness in his voice.

Hermes snorts, tapping his chin. “I dunno…”

Dionysus groans, pouting. Hermes pulls him close, rubbing his knuckles on his head. “C’mon, Sussie, I’m just joking.”

“Good!” He pushes himself away.

Hermes holds the coin bag out to him. “Can I trust you to hold it?”

“...Why?”

“‘Cause you’re old now, Sussie. You can hold some spare change.”

Dionysus’ face lights up, grabbing the bag and clutching it close. “Really?” Then he coughs, kicking his foot against the ground. “I-No, uh, ‘course I am!”

Hermes laughs airly. “‘Course you are.”

He grabs his walking stick-an intricate thing, carved with two wings, rings, and snakes that coil around each other- and then they’re off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's go gaymers!! Mainly Herm/Heph but Dio is prevalent and so are other gods!


	2. Enter The Marketplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo enters the marketplace, and Hermes' secrets haunt him well.

They weave in and out of the crowds of people, Dionysus holding Hermes’ hand, his other clutching the coin bag close to his heart. Hermes uses his staff to make way through to Demeter’s stand.

“Hermes! Wonderous to see you!” She coos, without ever looking up from where she separates grains into cloth bags. “What can I help you with, my dear?”

Hermes laughs, moving Dionysus up to the counter with him. “Demeter, the pleasure’s all mine!” 

He takes the bag from Dionysus, slipping a few silver coins out of it. She takes them with a soft smile, not even bothering to count. Hermes is her favorite customer, he wouldn’t dream of harming her business in any way. 

He hands the coin bag back to Dionysus, slipping the tied-off grain into his sling bag. “Can I offer you a loaf?” 

Demeter shakes her head, smiling. “No, I couldn’t. Have a good day, dearest!”

“Ah, alright!” He chuckles. “I’ll be off, now! Tell the little ones hullo for me!”

“Mm, I’ll court you with my eldest, yet!” She calls after him, before tending to the line that formed behind him.

His third secret reigns with shame, though he never shows it outwardly. The coins clinking together in Dionysus’ hand may never be held by their owner, for the guilt makes the bag a weight too heavy.

Hermes is a scammer, never paying in full, too trustworthy to deem a thief. He makes do with what he saves, never haggling, just playing sleight of hand games until they give up, or putting on a mask of joy and kindness until he can use their trust to his advantage. 

He looks towards Dionysus, who smiles up at him. He feels the guilt grow deeper, having promised to keep him safe.

But if his subtle thievery is caught, he risks both of their lives. And that thought crushes him, makes him want to ball up with the rats in a corner and weep.

He clears his head, before the tears welling can make an escape, as Dionysus tugs on his sleeve. 

The child points towards a shop, hidden by a split tapestry-moon on one side, silver threads shining under the grey sky, sun on the other, the yellow so vibrant it seems to shimmer golden. “Pollo!”

True to his words, a young man stands waving his hands towards them. He’s always been obsessed with theatrics, smiling widely as he calls for them.

His hair is braided in two places, tying up the rest of his golden hair. Freckled and tan-skinned, his eyes twinkle as he rushes up to the two of them.

Hermes rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Apollo.”

Apollo picks him up. “Brother!”

They’re not blood related, not by a long shot, but Hermes has known him since he first moved into Olympus. They look as different as can be, but Hermes has always been the younger brother Apollo never had.

“Hullo, yes, it’s me,” He pats his shoulder. 

Apollo sets him down, gently tapping him upon the head. He’s a head and a half taller than Hermes, and where Hermes’ is gaunt and flimsy, Apollo just… Isn’t. He’s not his exact opposite, but they’re different enough to notice. Blue-eyed, pretty faced _Apollon,_ musician in a town lacking, versus the thin, golden gaze of the baker, who everyone knows, yet few can name. 

“Where have you been?” He asks, dragging Hermes by the arm into his cavern. 

“Around, doing what I do best!” He laughs. It’s a farce, of course, he’s been baking and stressing over Dionysus, who clings to him now but had been handed off only a month prior. When he stressed, he quarantined himself, only letting few in. Few wasn’t Apollo, wasn’t getting him paid enough to pay the landlord, but a few bread loaves would. Pay came in grain all too often, but that was how it was, and how it would stay.

“Ah, my Hermes, the damsel-killer!” Apollo smacks him on the back, and he stumbles forward, laughing. 

Dionysus’ already climbed his way up to Apollo’s shoulders, hanging around his neck by his arms. “Pollo!”

Apollo puts his hands on Dionysus’ back, spinning him around to face him. “My, my! Hermes, you didn’t tell me you brought a guest!”

Hermes gains his bearings on a cobble, sticking a bit out of the wall. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask!” 

Apollo spins around, holding Dionysus out as he does so. “I assumed you’d share!”

A new voice joins them. “You be careful with that boy, now!” 

She comes out in her thick shawl, holding a slab of salted meat upon a stone board. 

“Artie!” Dionysus coos at her when Apollo halts. 

Artemis smiles at him, her face barely visible under her hood.“Dionysus, a shock to be sure!” She sets the stone down on a ledge, turning her back to them.

She begins hacking away at the meat, while attempting to hold a conversation. Dionysus answers in childish wonder, and she hands him a small bit of the dried meat.

He takes a bit of it and chews as he speaks, and Artemis laughs and engages with him. They’re as wholesome as Artemis can get, as she only gets for smaller children. 

And Dionysus is the smallest she knows.

Hermes takes to sitting down on the ground by Apollo as the two talk, Apollo looking at him with a sly grin. 

“So… Where have you actually been?”

“I’ve been around, of course.”

“ _ Around, _ hm?”

Hermes snorts and shoves him. “Not that way, you shit.”

Apollo chuckles. “Well, we’ve seen people ‘round your shop. On closed days, uhm-hm.” He winks at him, and Hermes tenses.

“They’re Sussie’s watchers-”

“I’m not talking of the women.” It's a simple phrase, said with the nonchalance only Apollo can master.

And, yet, it sends Hermes reeling, the air stolen from his lungs, his soul in splinters that dash around his heart. 

His fourth secret’s a man, a  _ friend _ , the only of the “few” he let see him. The blacksmith, the only one he knows for fact truly cares for him. Although…

“What’re you saying? He’s married!”

And it was true. 

His hands were scarred and worn, but warm to the touch, and they fit over Hermes’ own perfectly. But he isn’t Hermes’ to hold, even though he’d love to. Never his to have for more than a moment.

He wasn’t Hermes’ biggest secret. But he was his dearest, held close to the heart, too weak a spot to lay unprotected. Hermes would’ve pressed a thousand kisses to his face, held him tenderly, if only he could. But people like him were executed, deemed untrustworthy. Deemed  _ vile. _ So he held their fleeting interactions on a pedestal, rose-tinted and vanilla.

“A- _ ha! _ ” Apollo shot upwards, turning to him. “So you  _ do  _ know exactly who I’m speaking of!” 

Hell is not hotter than his face.

“What-” His voice is an octave too high, and he has to restrain the urge to clench his teeth- “what’re you talking about?”

Apollo raises an eyebrow, knowingly grinning. He says nothing, but Hermes fills the silence with nervous squawks.

“I don’t-”

“ _ -Bold _ accusations, Apollon! I’d never-”

“-We’re just- He doesn’t-”

“ _ He is married, Apollon!” _

Hermes’ voice is shrill, loud, startling Artemis across the room. She turns, her knife stabbed straight through the cobble, and sighs. 

“...Why the  _ hell _ are you yelling?” She seems not… disappointed. Just resigned. Hermes doesn’t fear her, hasn’t for a while, but her glare still chills him to the bone.

It cools his face, having been a ridiculous fire’s red, almost as bright as Artemis’ hair.

“Sorry, Artie, I-”

“Apollo is right there.”

“I know- I was just-”

“Shush up, I’m needing a new cleaver, now, and it’s your fault.”

“Mm, I’m sorry, I-”

“Out of my shop with you, now, I’ll watch your young!” 

He stands up in a blur, disturbed. “Artemis-”

“I’ll need a commission from the bladesmith, yeah?” She tosses a coin sack- not his own, of silky silver- at him, narrowly missing his head.

Hermes blinks. “Uhm.”

“Get! Off with you!” She points toward the door. “We’ll watch him while you’re gone!”

“We will!” Pipes Apollo, shoving at his legs. 

He takes a stumbling step. “Alright! Fine! I’ll go!”

Apollo whoops, clapping. He pushes Hermes again, who aims a kick at him. “Stop, you creature from the abyss!” 

He just cackles in response. For someone older than Hermes, he acts younger than Dionysus himself. 

Hermes sighs, picking up his stick from where he dropped it. Apollo aims another kick at his legs, and Hermes hops over him. “You’re a disgrace!”

“So you’ve said!” He’s jovial, and Hermes can’t help yet smile himself. 

“Awh, shuttuh’.”

“ **_Out!_ ** ” 

And he’s gone in a moment, Artemis’ voice still grating on his ears.

Dionysus pouts, watching him leave. “He said I’d come with him! Market time is  _ ours! _ ” 

Artemis laughs, pressing a kiss to his head. “Oh, he’ll be back for you, yet.”

Dionysus just scrunches his nose, huffing unhappily. “I missed him!”

“I know, little one. I know.”

He tugs at his tunic. She lowers his hands. 

“Please, dearest, he’ll be mad if you rip-”

“I jus’ wanted to help!” His little voice quivers, his eyes hot with tears.

“Oh,” She sighs, sitting beside him on the counter. Artemis pulls him onto her lap, tucking him away in her shawl of wolves’ skins. “You did help him, I promise. But there are some things that only adults can do.”

He huffs again, whining. “Why?”

Artemis smiles. “Because you’re still little, yet.”

Dionysus pouts, yet silences. There are things he refuses to argue with. Artemis is one of them.

As Artemis comforts the small child, Hermes walks along the cobble roads, stepping over rats and spilled grain. He stands before the lion’s den, the heat boiling even from the outside. 

But he owes this to Artemis.

He steps inside, grimacing.”Hello, are you here?”

The response is a kind yet gruff voice that comes from besides him, making him jump, and resist the urge to stay afloat. 

“Hulloh, Hermes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solar twins!! And djhsfhgVHSD im sorry it took so long to update egbahfghjfherj
> 
> And no i will not apologize for the cliffhanger


End file.
